


First Time

by samusisagirl



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: (he is 19), F/M, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Virgin Julian, it's a flashback thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21749968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samusisagirl/pseuds/samusisagirl
Summary: Julian muses about his first time, and his current lover, the apprentice.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Other(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	First Time

Julian wasn’t sure he had ever seen someone so beautiful as the woman lying in bed beside him. Someone whose smile could make his heart bounce around in his chest like an over-excited puppy or make his hands shake like it was his first time ever touching someone else’s naked skin. Even after seeing her smile a thousand times. Or touching her skin a thousand more.

Being with her made it feel like it was his first time all over again. Every time. And though he’d rather not relive his _actual_ first time—of being nineteen in Prakra, with no idea what he is doing with his life or with his limbs and being so utterly _terrified_ just to talk to the attractive creature sitting at the other end of whatever den of iniquity Nazali had dragged him into this time. 

It had taken all of his courage to approach them. That and a little bit of spirits. Just a sip to get him off his stool and walking in their direction. 

And Nazali quite literally kicking him in the rear. 

How times have changed from that first night, he muses, brushing a few strands of hair aside before kissing the place between her shoulder blades. 

He’s no longer some lanky nineteen-almost-twenty-year-old, all legs and nose and touch and go on being able to grow a proper beard. 

It was the eve of the twentieth birthday, if he remembers correctly.

He doubts anyone would believe him if he said he hadn’t slept with another person—had sex with another person—until he was very nearly twenty. He’s certainly made up for lost time since then. Not that things like that really matter. But they seem to matter quite a bit when you’re nineteen and still have only ever kissed two people despite being on the other end of the world, having seen and done so much, yet get tongued-tied around a pretty face and trip over your own two feet whenever someone so much as touches your arm.

Not to say either of those things don’t still happen occasionally, to his everlasting chagrin. The suave charm he’d been able to cultivate over the past fifteen or so years cracks completely when met with her, a person who sees him, all of him—faults and weaknesses alike—and still smiles and reaches out to touch him.

She made him feel like he was nineteen again when he stood in her shop that night, being interrogated for breaking in. (And rightly so.) She made him feel the dizziness of that first time, of being led by the hand to some upstairs room, his face almost as red as his hair as they clumsily pressed their lips together and he struggled out of his clothes. 

His heart had been pounding like a war drum that night, and he was sure they would hear it and realize he was a gangly, awkward virgin and they’d point and laugh and run from the room to tell everyone. When they didn’t—and they both had somehow managed to get naked and find their way to a bed—he couldn’t stop worrying his nose would get in the way. Or his elbows and knees would. That he wouldn’t touch them right or say the right thing. His mouth and hands had felt like liabilities. And he was positive his blush was now covering his entire too-pale, too-tall body and he wondered not for the first time that night what someone as beautiful as them had seen in him to make them smile at him from across the room, or kiss him in the middle of some story he’d been telling, which had resulted in both of them tangled together, naked, in some small room. 

He had known what to do—he was training to be a doctor after all—but the knowing and the doing had suddenly seemed like two very different things and suffice it to say, that first encounter had ended rather quickly. 

After, he had pulled on his clothes, nearly tripping while doing so. He had said something, probably something terribly embarrassing he’s glad to not remember, and stumbled back to Nazali with a blush still splashed across his cheeks and his curls no doubt his disarray. 

Nazali had clapped him on the back and ordered him a drink and he never saw that other person again. He couldn’t even remember their name—if they had exchanged them—their face now nothing more than an attractive blur. 

Funny how something that had seemed like the most important event in his life had faded until it was just a memory of his heart racing and his hands shaking and him worrying about his nose poking them in the eye. 

He’d been with a number of people since then. Had a number of new first times. Discovered certain predilections and explored them every way he could with anyone he found interesting. Moved on when it was time and thought of past lovers with nothing but fondness. He’d slept with many, had sex with more than a few, fucked his fair share. He felt no shame for any of it. 

But it wasn’t until he met _her,_ that his hands had started trembling again and his heart had taken off at a mile a minute in his chest. 

The first time she pulled him into bed and kissed his overheated, flushed skin, he began to think this time was different. And as they held each other and explored each other, he began to understand that this time _was_ something more than sleeping or sex or fucking. This was making love to someone. And he wanted this time to be his last first time with someone. That any new experiences or sensations he could discover would feel empty if they weren’t discovered with her beside him. Or under him. Or astride him. 

He wasn’t sure if his hands would ever stop shaking when he touched her. And he wasn’t sure he minded.


End file.
